


all is bright

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Canon, Budding Love, Exile, Implied Relationships, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27942866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Dead to the rest of the galaxy, Kylo and Hux wait out a violent storm on the battered cliffsides of Arkanis.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 9
Kudos: 79
Collections: Kylux Advent Calendar 2020





	all is bright

**Author's Note:**

> Quick little ficlet for Days 3 and 4 of the Kylux Advent event, combining the prompts "stars" and "fireplace." Enjoy!

Outside, the storm continues to throttle the Arkanis coastline, lashing the walls of the cottage with wind and shaking the roof with rain.

Inside, for now, the shelter holds, the single leak in the corner managed by beaten tin. _Plink, plink, plink_ , slowly, in between the occasional crackle of the fire that lights up the single-room, filling it with shielding warmth.

Kylo crouches by the flame in the small, sunken hearth that tunnels smoke out through the ceiling, occasionally stoking it with the butt of a broken blaster rifle. His hood keeps most of his face in darkness, despite the glow of the fire, but flickers of orange still manage to dance in the depth of his eyes. Behind him, Hux sleeps on the bed—though not well, Kylo has noted, if the rustling and shifting and infrequent, soft _huffs_ are any hint. Kylo can’t blame him. Though it’s warm inside the cottage, the storm is loud, baying like a savage beast, shaking the walls with its demand to be let in. Its insistence chases away the calm of sleep, promising no rest until it passes and, finally, calm mercy falls upon the battered world.

Kylo hasn’t tried to rest, not since the storm first rolled in, right as they had snatched a meager catch of fish from the nearby brackish stream. The pin-bones, picked clean by starving fingers, lie on a scrap of crumpled, yet overall flat-enough alusteel next to him. He glances at it, sniffs the last gasp of burnt, oily fish. His stomach rumbles and pangs, and he turns his attention back to the fire. Lips cracked and pursed, he jabs at the embers, urging the flames higher.

It’s easier, this way. To ignore the aches in his body, the whine of hunger, the throb of old wounds— _memories_ , fluttering and resurgent.

It’s easier to instead focus his everything on keeping the fire going.

Kylo must lose hours into that fire, his skin growing tight and dry with premature wrinkles, his fingers trembling from gripping the rifle’s barrel for too long. He’s so absorbed in it, in sustaining its light, that he doesn’t notice a change in the storm until there’s movement on the bed behind him, and a rough, exhausted voice reaching out to him.

“Ren…the storm has stopped.”

Turning his head, Kylo could spot Hux’s red head of hair rising from the bed, even tucked away in the darker side of the cottage, copper strands catching the firelight even from that far away. He pulls the rifle away from the hearth, setting it down on the cottage floor. Pushing himself to his feet, he sways to find his balance. Hux is already sliding out of bed, bare feet gently padding over to the door. Kylo flinches when Hux’s fingers find the handle, thinking of the fire, vulnerable in the event of wind gusting over the threshold, but he doesn’t stop Hux from opening the door and gazing out into Arkanis’ impenetrable darkness.

Only…it doesn’t seem so dark, all of a sudden. As Kylo watches, guarded, Hux pokes his way out through the doorway. But instead of rain assaulting his curious head, a glint of something pale dances along each disheveled strand, giving him a cap of ethereal silk for hair. Hux tilts his chin up, letting out a low, intrigued noise in the back of his throat as he looks skyward.

“Ren. Come—you can see the stars,” he says, coaxing

Nonetheless, it takes a moment for Kylo to will up the courage to leave the fire, with its dancing embers still emblazoned on the inside of his eyelids. Eventually, he comes to Hux’s side, taking cautious steps, in case the storm rises up once again, roars into their pocket of warmth and safety, snuffs out the fire for good. In the doorway, he can feel the steady heat radiating off of Hux’s body, and once his hand laces with the ex-general’s, he finally follows Hux’s gaze upward. His hood falls back away from his head, matted black curls free to feel the dewy air run through them.

Above them, the clouds, once thick and heavy with punishing rain, have broken up, like ice flows in a warming sea, exposing in their wake a bright, starry firmament. The celestial light bathes the fields and trees around the cottage in a sheen of silver, green of the foliage visible in daylight washed out and glistening. Metallic, like the halls of a star destroyer, but fluttering in the breeze, alive. Kylo watches the world around him, feeling something detach from inside himself and float away, carried in the wind, leaving behind an odd, but not unwelcome, sense of peace. The Force, threaded through the world around him; but balanced now, soothing his mind instead of tearing him in twain at every opportunity, like a fish laden with many hooks.

He blinks when Hux squeezes his hand, drawing his attention back down until their eyes meet. Hux stands with one bare foot on the damp stone leading to the doorway, face half in the starlight, half eclipsed in the shadow of the threshold.

“You should try to get some rest now. I think the storm has broken for good.”

“How do you know that?”

Hux hums but doesn’t give a further answer. He doesn’t need to, not with the knowing gleam of a man native to Arkanis in his eyes. Not with the way he closes the door, draws Kylo to the bed and its warmth despite the threadbare blanket and rocky pillow, and holds him close. In the hearth, by the bones of dinner and the soot-scarred rifle. The fire fades to a lull, its life persisting in the cinders. Kylo, nose pressed to Hux’s scalp, inhales his scent, still gentle and refreshing despite the musky, bitter grit that comes with weeks of exile, and lets it lead him off to a sense of peace once so elusive.

And so they both sleep, intertwined together, the undisturbed stars scrolling above them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to read your comments if you have them! 
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


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